


Unfamiliar Waters

by Tricky_Words



Series: Anthology [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Character Study, Fantasy, Female Protagonist, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Unknown Protagonist - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 04:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16234415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tricky_Words/pseuds/Tricky_Words
Summary: Fantasy has a way of magnifying and adding new stakes to everyday emotions and events making it an interesting tool to explore our lives.The first installment of this anthology explores the concept of grief and loss as felt by an unnamed character in the immediate aftermath of tragedy.





	Unfamiliar Waters

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first step in conquering my fear of writing, or, to be precise, of sharing my work with an audience. I've been dying to tell a story for almost a decade now, but I know I'm not nearly ready to do the story justice. So please join me as I use fantasy, different writing styles, and changing settings to explore my experiences and grow as a writer.
> 
> Thank you for your time!

Ashes streaked over porcelain skin. The steady stream of water washing over her body only making matters worse. The larger flakes chipped away and spiraled down the drain leaving only black and grey mud behind. Had she the mind to, an expendable, coarse sponge could've seen it quickly resolved, but she didn't, and instead she slipped down into the bottom of the tub, toeing the drain stopper into place. Her churning mind left no room for calculated movement, best to just lay there, like a pot left soaking in the sink.

The bath water was cold by the time anybody came to check in on her. The door connecting the bath to her private rooms opened hesitantly, as if the interloper feared what lay behind, or, perhaps, seeking an extra minute to create a plan, to string together some kind of meaningful sentence. This was after all the hour where all words lost meaning, where even the most well-crafted, heartfelt words rang hollow and drifted away without truly being heard. Humans, sadly, though are bound by words, chained to them, dependent on them, the only way to convey thoughts or emotions. The only source of understanding and comfort tied to the currently inconsequential sounds. The interloper knew this but could not stop themselves from speaking regardless. It was the only tool at their disposal, dull as it may be.

Her head lolled across the edge of the tub to gaze at the new source of sound, eyes pointed but unseeing. Slowly the interloper made their way from the doorway to kneel by the tub, laying a hand on the shoulder of the tub’s occupant. She couldn’t decide if she appreciated the new source of warmth or if it was just a sharp reminder of how cold the rest of her was, but she made no effort to encourage or pull away from the touch. Instead, her eyes followed up the length of the bare arm, starting with the fingers spread across her skin, taking stock of the thin gold band resting on top of a thicker, silver ring, engraved with family significance. Observing the unadorned wrist, the goosebumps on their forearm, and resting on the tattoo on the interloper’s upper arm. A flicker of life flared deep in her lilac irises.

She put that tattoo there, oh so many years ago. The lines flaring, twining, speaking of unity and promises never to be broken. The unbidden pride swelled in her chest, as it did every time she had seen it for the last 10 years. She made quick note of the rose tank top strap, new clothes, unsullied clothes, and finally made eye contact. The deep oak colored pools drew her in. Reminders of warm days in ancient forests, towering trees covering them and adding mystique to their childhood games. She loved those eyes, even in this state she knew that beyond a doubt. Though, this time she felt she would break upon the interloper’s gaze. Her mind comfortably numb, adrift on foreign seas suddenly called home by those familiar eyes, but she didn’t know how to make port safely on these new waters. Instead reality served as jagged rocks waiting for her mind to dash itself upon them, and upon them she did fall.

Sensation came back, as if those cold seas had spilled into her skull, shocking, cold, and unrelenting. The now caked on mixture of ash, sweat, and sullied water pulled her skin tight over her bones, making her wonder if humans were capable of molting. The tightness, the cold, however, paled to the emptiness in her chest. It seemed to pull everything from bone to tissue into it’s orbit, making her body feel stretched to the point of breaking, fragile. It ached in way she couldn’t put words to, couldn’t even comprehend. It wasn’t a pain to be understood, but to be felt and endured. The burning started behind her eyes and flushed her entire body as she fought against the unfamiliar seas from escaping down her face.

The interloper continued talking, unheard, as they were spurned into action. Reaching for the stopper, the murky water slipped away, replaced by a new flow of warm water from overhead. A sponge started at her neck, letting loose the clinging mixture. As the sponge met shoulders and back she slowly made her way from rocky shores to the here and now. Reaching for the sponge she took it from the other’s grasp and slowly stood as she finished the job. A towel was unfolded and waiting for her before the water was turned off. She stepped out and took to getting dressed as the interloper left to retrieve something or other, still not quite ready to acknowledge the actions of the world.

She was found laying across her bed. Hair fanned out, bleaching the soothing blue of the pillow cases. A cup of hot cocoa was offered. The mini marshmallows floating on top enticed a smile pulled from childhood memories and a swallow of thirst as she took a quick sip, enough to put her thirst to bed and the interloper’s mind at ease. Placing the cup on the side table, the interloper crawled into the bed beside her, forcing her to turn to her side, allowing them to crawl into her arms. This seemed to be all the encouragement the waiting parties outside needed as a mishmashed group of people quietly entered the room. Somebody slipped in behind her while her sister wedged herself at the head of bed, flaming, curly hair mixing with silk white. The rest found room on the large bed or found positions on the floor, some sitting up against the frame of the bed and others content to lay on the floor, as long as they maintained proximity.

Nobody spoke. Words were meaningless after all. Even the interloper felt no need to infringe on this silence. This silence was different. This silence was a shared purgatory. The in-between of numbness, reality, and acceptance. This was the last moment where events were both true and untrue. Where these young humans could draw comfort but forestall the rushing truth of terrible loses. The sun would rise, and with it it’s pain and suffering, but for now there was the soothing warmth of familiarity. Familiar touches and shared memories.

It was early in the morning when all but two had given into exhaustion. Freed from the embrace of the interloper, having inched towards the edge of the bed and now drooling on the head of somebody sleeping against the bed’s frame, she turned to face the window. Instead she came face to face with the piercing blue eyes of a boy with wild, midnight hair. His eyes were the least familiar to her. His eyes brought no childhood memories back, but episodes of competition and jealous lashing outs. She might not have loved these eyes as she did all those that rested in this room, but they were loved by another. Another she loved. Another who loved her. Another who was beyond her reach. In that moment that’s all she needed. She reached for him as he did for her. Tucking her head under his chin she felt her grief under his skin, stretching his bones, and emptying his chest out. This boy she would cling to for the coming days, weeks, months, and years. This boy who she would climb out of the wreckage wrought by a lost life with, united in a way only two people who share the same pain can be.


End file.
